


See Me

by Kedavranox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4454678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedavranox/pseuds/Kedavranox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I look up, and there he is. Potter, gloriously naked, stroking his cock like he’s the only man on the planet. The cigarette falls from my lips as I freeze, mouth halfway open. My pulse quickens, thumping away in my throat, beating a deafening thud in my head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I See You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1379881) by [NathalieWeasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NathalieWeasley/pseuds/NathalieWeasley). 



> Nath, I really *really loved this fic of yours and I was so pleased to be able to remix for you. This is likely to be my final fest, so I’m really glad that what I worked on will be gifted to you. :) Hope you like!

**Author:** [](http://kedavranox.livejournal.com/profile)[**kedavranox**](http://kedavranox.livejournal.com/)  
**Title:** See Me  
**Pairing(s):** Harry/Draco  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings/Content:** Voyeurism… oooh  
**Summary:** I look up, and there he is. Potter, gloriously naked, stroking his cock like he’s the only man on the planet. The cigarette falls from my lips as I freeze, mouth halfway open. My pulse quickens, thumping away in my throat, beating a deafening thud in my head.  
Based on Nath’s [I See You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1379881)  
**Word Count:** ~1800  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on [I See You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1379881) by [](http://nathalieweasley.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://nathalieweasley.livejournal.com/)**nathalieweasley** , and also some things JKR wrote.  
**Author's Notes** : Nath, I really *really loved this fic of yours and I was so pleased to be able to remix for you. This is likely to be my final fest, so I’m really glad that what I worked on will be gifted to you. :) Hope you like!

 

The first time I see Potter naked, wanking on the balcony across from my flat, J is still inside helping me finish unpack my things from unshrunken boxes, flitting around the room with a strange kind of nervous energy. I know he feels guilty about breaking up with me and making me leave his apartment, but I also know he’s only here because he’s hoping I’ll let him fuck me one last time.

I probably will. I was planning to. I only stepped out onto the balcony to steal a smoke first, because being around J after finally breaking things off is… unnerving. My fingers shake as I chase the fag with my lighter. As it sparks, I look up, and there he is. Potter, gloriously naked, stroking his cock like he’s the only man on the planet. The cigarette falls from my lips as I freeze, mouth halfway open. My pulse quickens, thumping away in my throat, beating a deafening thud in my head.

All the blood rushes to my cock, and I’m hard. It’s 0-60. It always is with Potter. His skin is almost golden in the moonlight. His flat torso, lean legs, the static-y bed hair—everything I’d ever fantasised about when I pictured what he might look like out of his robes is right there in front of me. I stop breathing for a few unusual seconds, and my hand ghosts over the front of my trousers, but I stop myself. I can’t.

He’s facing my balcony as if he doesn’t expect that there’s anyone around to see. He doesn’t know I’m here. All the electrical lights in my apartment are off, because I’m a snob and I prefer soft wizard light, even if I can’t see shit as I’m unpacking. It would be impossible to spot that someone was here from a balcony away. He probably doesn’t know I’ve moved into the flat. Didn’t my estate agent say no one’s been here for years?

I swallow the lump in my throat and stare unbidden as Potter strokes his cock, the muscles in his shoulders straining, his lower lip caught in his teeth. I back away slowly, as though walking away from a crime scene. I almost trip over the lounge chair behind me in my haste to get inside. Potter is playing with one of his nipples as I slip inside, firmly and safely shutting the sliding glass door leading to my balcony. But once I’m inside, I can’t help it, I look across the balcony once more through the glass just in time to see him come, and then I shut my eyes and firmly close the curtain, turning away and leaning against the glass door, breathing heavily.

I don’t say a word when J walks out of the bedroom with a raised eyebrow, brushing one of his dreadlocks away from his face. He notices my tented trousers and his eyebrows disappears even further into his hairline. I don’t bother to explain when I cross the room and kiss him. He doesn’t ask questions when he fucks me in the kitchen and I close my eyes and think about Potter.

~

The second time I venture out to the balcony, I’m ready for him. I’m more myself. More the Draco Malfoy everyone expects me to be. I try to seem cool. Unruffled. Together. Suave. But really my heart is pounding and there is sweat on my lip when he emerges. The wine glass in my hand is my fourth helping for the night. I needed two just to get me out here again, knowing what I was about to do.

I’ve been watching him. It’s not been hard to do. He lives his life in the open, even if that life is only a façade. He has a routine of sorts. He comes home. The light flickers on in his flat, and within minutes he comes to the balcony. On good days, he is quick about it. On bad days, he touches himself more, as if his fingers against his skin is the only way he can ground himself—find himself again after being lost in a whirlwind of ‘ _Potter!’_ s and lightbulb flashes and handshakes. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. Because it’s him. Because… across the balcony from my flat is a reflection of myself. I know why he needs this, the same way I know he won’t run away if I let him see me tonight.

And he does see me. I watch—silently breathless as he teases himself straight into orgasm, stroking his chest, his eyes closed, head thrown back, his Adam's apple bobbing. The moonlight catches his skin and as a chill breeze rustles over us both, I notice he’s covered in gooseflesh. The desperate urge I feel to cover him, to wrap him up in something warm—to _touch_ him surprises me. With one hand on his cock and another hidden between his thighs— _fucking Merlin_ —he’s fucking himself open, and I have to shift my stance just get some friction on my aching cock. I take a deep unsteady breath and lean against the railing, taking a sip from my glass to calm me down, and then just before he comes, Potter looks across the balcony and he spots me.

Time slows into absolute stillness. My heart is hammering away as I lick my lips, trying to affect an expression of calm confidence. Our gazes are locked even as orgasm takes him, and in that briefest of moments, I see him. All of him. And though it feels voyeuristic it’s also intimate, and riveting, and too significant a moment to be shared from across a balcony. I want to be there with him. I want him to know that I know, that I understand. That I—

I can’t explain it.

But then the moment is gone.

I lift my glass in silent toast, take my final sip of my wine, and then I slip inside, leaving him to his solitude, wondering for a moment if I was wrong to take it from him in the first place.

~

He doesn’t come to the balcony for a few days. In the interim, I torture myself with wondering: if it were someone else, would he have kept coming out? Perhaps I am the problem, the history between us being what it is, but I even with all that I thought I felt — _it_ felt… significant.

I take my wine onto the balcony and wait for him anyway. For four nights, I wait for him to come back.

On the fifth night, he does.

I don’t want to think too closely about how relieved I am to see him. These moments between us… they aren’t for thinking. I stay very still, letting him know that he’s in the lead this time. Potter looks at me for a moment. It’s the first time he’s come out onto the balcony fully clothed, and I’m not sure what that means. I lean against the rail and watch him calmly as he unbuttons his shirt and his deft fingers skim across his chest. He looks nervous. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to be. Not for me.

I swallow the heavy lump in my throat.

I can’t look away from him. There’s an energy between us that can’t be broken and it sits heavy on my shoulders—all over my body. It pins me in place and makes all my breaths shallow and I want him. Desperately. Potter slips his hand down the length of his chest and I follow his movements as his palm disappears beneath his unzipped trousers, stroking himself beneath the fabric. Somehow the sight of him doing this halfway clothed is even more intense.

I grip my wine glass tighter, transfixed by his hand working himself beneath his clothes. I know–already I know–the tell-tale signs when Potter is about to come. His skin breaks out in goose pimples, he bites his lower lip, everything in him tenses, his thighs quiver. I lick my lips just as he comes, making a sound loud enough for me to hear. It’s the first time he’s ever done that, the first I’ve ever heard him make a sound. As he comes down from the high, I can’t stop staring at him. I want, more than anything, to be next to him in that moment when all masks are gone, when he’s raw and completely open to me. I want to be close to him, so he’ll know I see him. I see everything he’s hiding.

I want him to see me, too.

~

It becomes our habit, and every day it’s like an itch beneath my skin. Every day it becomes _not enough_ to only watch and not touch him. To not be a part of him somehow.

There’s something my father used to say. _It’s not enough to want it, Draco._ And I know it’s true.

It’s not enough to simply want.

~

Potter opens the door naked.

I walk inside his apartment, my nerves frayed, my breaths shallow and erratic. I close the door behind me and take a moment to look at him.

His eyes, gorgeous as they always are, are wide, and his breaths are shallow, too. He bites briefly on his lower lip and I reach out and let my fingers skim his chest, reassuring myself, that yes. He is real. I am here with him now.

Potter closes his eyes, but I don’t want that. I need his gaze on me.

I lean into him and whisper, ‘I see you,’ so quietly that I’m not sure he hears. I’m not sure if he understands. But his eyes flicker open, and he slips his fingers into mine. He leads me to his bedroom and I turn on the light.

On the bed, I lean into him and kiss him, wondering at his tongue sweeping across mine, wondering at the soft sigh that escapes his mouth, wondering at his cool soft skin, wondering at his hands trailing along my sides, pushing themselves beneath my shirt—wondering, wondering and thinking too much. As he touches me everywhere, his long fingers both eager and curious, he bites the skin beneath my jaw and says, _‘Hush, Draco,’_ even though I haven’t said a word.

Potter tugs on my earlobe with his teeth and I groan. I kiss him again, and everything is on fire, for both of us. And I know he knows.

I know he sees me, too.


End file.
